The sound of heartbreak: Neale Daniher, my hero

When Neale Daniher’s knee crumpled beneath him in the next to last game of the 1981 VFL season, the football world was robbed of one of its most promising rising stars.

The then 20-year-old had been one of the driving forces behind a 15-game winning streak that had the Bombers – who had started the season slowly under new coach Kevin Sheedy – hurtling towards a place in the top three and the finals double chance that came with it.

It was no small consequence that when Daniher’s knee crumpled, so too did his club’s season.

The winning streak came to an end the week after, and the Bombers missed the double chance. They were then eliminated in the first week of the finals.

It was a disappointing end to a season that looked like delivering so much. The club was on the rise though and the future of its young and talented list looked very bright indeed. But the one they held in the greatest esteem was Daniher.

They made him captain for the 1982 season despite his immediate playing future being clouded. At just 21, he became the youngest ever to be named leader of the red and black.

He never led them though. His knee broke down again, and again, forcing him from the game well before his time. He did manage to add a handful of extra games to his career tally with a couple of gutsy comebacks years later, but father time, a changing game, and a body ravaged by injury ensured that he was never going to be the player he was.

He retired, happy in the knowledge that he had given it everything he had, but no doubt regretting that his best playing years were taken from him. He wasn’t done with the game yet though. After hanging up his boots he became Melbourne’s most successful modern-era coach.

But now the football world is to be robbed again. Not just the football word either, but his family, his admirers and the community in general.

Neale Daniher has been diagnosed with Motor Neuron Disease (MND).

It will attack his body, take away his strength, destroy his independence and kill him. Nothing is surer.

That is not a cold-hearted statement. It is the cold-hearted fact that thousands of suffers around Australia (and the world) must face every day. There is no cure.

It is a cruel and insidious disease, one that causes degeneration and eventual death of the nerve cells controlling the muscles which allow us to move, speak, breathe and swallow. With no nerves to activate them, the muscles gradually weaken and waste. In essence, the sufferer becomes trapped in their own body. Death is the only outcome.

And yet Daniher maintains his sense of humour. He remains positive. In an interview with former teammate Tim Watson he says on more than one occasion that he has been lucky. It is a typical Daniher response to hardship. “She’ll be right mate…”

Except that it won’t be right. Not this time.

Daniher says that he first noticed the onset of the disease when he had difficulty pegging washing onto a clothes line. His hands were failing him. The moral of the story, he says, is to not be so eager to peg washing on the line!

There’s that humour again, unfailing as always, despite the man himself knowing that he is on borrowed time. He jokes with Watson that he wants to increase the average life expectancy of MND sufferers by pushing on for a few more years yet.

Granted his legs remain unaffected, but his upper body strength is ebbing away and his speech is beginning to slur. He still walks and plays golf, although he admits that he can’t hit the ball very far now. It is a sad situation but one senses that Daniher is not one to sit around feeling sorry for himself. He just knuckles down and does what he can.

Season 1981 seems such a long time ago now – 33 years in fact – and yet I can still vividly remember sitting on the lounge room floor as a boy, listening to a crackly radio broadcast of an Essendon versus Carlton game.

It mattered not that the weather swirled wild and cold outside. I was cocooned by the warmth of a thick pile carpet and a rattly old gas heater. Oblivious to all, I sat entranced, straining to hear the kick-by-kick description that was fighting its way through the static.

I listened in awe as Essendon, trailing by plenty with just minutes to go, began to mount a challenge. Daniher was switched forward by novice coach Sheedy, and he pulled down marks and kicked pressure goals as if he was born for such occasions.

Then Carlton superstar Mike Fitzpatrick was penalised for wasting time, and the Bombers were away again. I remember it like it was yesterday. I remember the excitement. I remember the nervous tension. I remember the joy I felt as the siren sounded.

Essendon had won and Daniher was the star. Along with his brother Terry, he was also my hero.

He still is.